The Sound of the Tablet
by UniqueOpal
Summary: Serena lives in a world where silence screams the loudest. She spends most of her time at The Museum of Natural History which grants her brief respite from the monotony and pressures of life. One night, she stays too long and comes face-to-face with the impossible. Suddenly, her life is thrown into turmoil as she tries to come to grips with this new revelation.
1. The Primitives 'Crash'

Music was what Serena missed the most, if she was really being honest with herself. She knew what she was 'supposed' to miss – the sound of her mother's voice, the rumbling purrs of her cat, her sister's raucous infectious laughter and she did miss those things. Perhaps she was a little heartless – but she missed the music more. The rising crescendos of Beethoven, bubbly beat of pop songs on the radio or rocking out to the 80s classics with the bass up to maximum with her Dad in his study. The emotion behind the lyrics, entwined within the song itself, in a symphony she could never hear again. Feeling the vibrations or just reading the words could not compare to getting lost in a song. It's not that she was a budding music prodigy, a future Mozart in the works – she supposed that would have been worse. It was just that she remembered what it was like before The Accident and that made it all the more difficult to bear. It was that she had once enjoyed something that was impossible to recreate without the ability to hear sound. A life of silence still devastated, her young soul.

The Accident had changed everything. Ironically enough, she had been listening to 'Crash' by The Primitives in her headphones moments before the collision. Truck versus car, she had been told afterwards. She didn't remember much from that night, rolling and tumbling in the back seat with her sister until the car had stopped somersaulting. It had been the scariest night of her life, she seriously thought she wasn't going to make it. The last sounds that echoed in her memory were of her family screaming themselves hoarse then the eerie silence that had followed. Lights, primary colours of red and blue swirled before her, dancing enticingly out of reach. She could feel her throat rasping, trying to make sounds – to let them know where she was, she needed help. Realising nothing was coming out she began to panic, clutching desperately at her throat and mouth. She looked over to see her sister Ivy's face covered in crimson, eyes a purplish hue and closed. Serena's eyes widened in pure fear as the worried face of a paramedic filled her view. The blond-haired medic captured her face in his strong hands and was telling her something. To calm down she supposed but she couldn't hear anything. Flailing wildly, she gestured to her family and the medic nodded quickly, seemingly understanding her without the need for speech. Emergency services had rushed them all to hospital as the pastel colours of dawn started to rise above the horizon. Darkness engulfed her terror-stricken mind and that was the last thing she remembered of that night.

Waking up to white noise had been horrifying. Starchy white sheets fell brokenly to the floor as she tried to listen. Nothing. Silence, the deafening quiet. Serena swung her legs over the edge of the mattress wincing slightly when she realised she was hooked up to an IV machine. The skimpy hospital robe ballooned around her slight build. She didn't recall being this skinny. Seeds of doubt had started to sow themselves around her fragile mind – how long had she been asleep? She looked around, a clock ticked ostentatiously midway up the pale lemon walls, a small TV was showing a nature slideshow in the corner, a low wooden table was smothered by the weight of several bouquets of withering flowers and deflating balloons next to her bed. A giant red button with the word 'Press for Staff' resided on one of her many remote controls. Pressing that button had brought two nurses in blue, a doctor in ironed white and several diagnostic carts were wheeled in. The myriad of colours and the expressions on each of her visitor's had captured her attention – calm concern, suppressed incredulity and palpable relief was the full range of their emotional spectra. She was so focused on the intensity of these different people she jumped when the nurse shook her shoulder. Looking up she saw his weathered lips moving rapidly but no discernible words coming out. No sound was breaking up this continual tranquillity. Noting the pen sticking out of his scrubs she snatched it, gesturing at him for some paper. He pulled out a small notepad, his mud-brown eyes crinkling with concern. She gave it back to him after writing a single, shaky sentence on the crisp, chalk-white page. She coded, causing a flurry of activity before the nurse had a chance to read her simple missive:

[I can't hear you – deaf?]

Her diagnosis had been devastatingly accurate. The doctor had written to her, giving her supplementary information on the dynamics of her condition. Apparently, according to the medical profession, she had hit her head at some point during The Accident which had injured a specific part of her brain causing irrevocable damage to the hearing and speech conduits in her brain. Essentially her ears were fine they just couldn't convey any of their information to her brain. She had also been unconscious for 3 weeks after a serious of failed operations to rectify her ailment. At this information, the same kind nurse whom she had messaged earlier watched Serena's features for some kind of reaction. He saw a solitary tear fall, then another before her bottom lip started to quiver and he was holding her gently as a torrent of sorrow retched its way from her body. He rubbed her back soothingly but his words of comfort were wasted on the girl imprisoned in her new, silent world.

Her Mum and sister had their own issues to deal with on top of her deafness – Ivy had fractured her femur and radius ulna, Mum fell subject to OCD a couple months after The Accident and Dad… well, he was gone – there were 'complications' during his surgery they had said. The hardest part about attending his funeral a month later, was the fact she couldn't say anything out loud to commemorate and remember his life. She couldn't tell the people gathered around him how he used to make goofy faces that would always make her laugh, how he instilled a deep love of music in her, how they would go on date nights occasionally, that would end in visiting a specialist gelato shop for dessert, she couldn't tell them just how much he supported her and loved her. She couldn't tell him goodbye. Her throat had closed up – swelled thick with emotion and sorrow. Her chest convulsed painfully as hiccups where forced from her being. She buried herself in her mother's pitch-black dress as the first spadesful of dirt landed on the polished wood. She couldn't stop crying, the sobs choking her throat and her nose running as reality hit home. The grief still felt fresh every morning since then, but the shards that shredded her heart began to get a little duller with time.

That had been around two years ago today. Physical and speech language therapy had helped her come a long way. It had been a steep learning curve, an uphill battle for herself, her family but especially for her friends. One or two of them had stuck it out – learning sign language and enduring the long lapses between conversations but a lot of them were purely virtual now. Typing was far easier than trying to find the right word or phrase to sign back at a person. That took time and dedication that some didn't possess at this point in their lives. She didn't begrudge them for it but that didn't make the loneliness any easier to bear. One wouldn't think that the lack of hearing could alienate people as easily as it does, but the lack of ability to pick up on or produce nuances, simple chatter or speech can isolate someone quicker than if they were disabled or cancerous. At least for those people there is technology and assistance or there is some kind of closure, brain damage is far, far trickier to handle.

During this difficult time, one of Serena's favourite places to spend her time, was at the Museum of Natural History. Living four blocks down from the institution had made it a perfect distraction from her day to day troubles. The receptionists knew her so well that they had stopped asking her for admission after her 14th visit instead offering her a frequent visitor's card at a discounted price. She didn't know quite what it was about this place that made her return so often. Maybe it was the rich history that enthralled her or the friendly faces she saw every time she returned. Perhaps, she thought to herself, that the wax figurines like President Theodore Roosevelt resonated with her – these great men and women of history represented in perfect likeness, perhaps they visited these vessels sometimes – looking through their glass eyes to the people below but unable to hear or talk. She liked to think that the great forefathers of her country were looking down from above, keeping an eye on their prospects and descendants. Laughing inwardly at herself she headed down to one of her favourite exhibits – the Hall of Miniatures after tipping her cap cheekily at the 26th President.


	2. Corinne Bailey Rae 'Put Your Records On'

Scrounging around in her bag for her sketchpad and charcoal pencil, she carefully placed these items next to her on the bench as she searched for her phone. 1:45pm the default screen flashed, perfect. Enough time to get a decent sketch in before the museum closes at 4pm. She set her alarm to vibrate at 3:45pm and plugged her headphones over her ears and set to work. The use of the headphones was purely to avoid conversation with others, not because she didn't welcome the interaction but she wanted to avoid the awkward pauses that came with trying to explain that she was fully deaf and couldn't have heard a single word they were saying. After 5 conversations of this type with disastrous results, she had discovered that it was better that people think that she was too busy listening to her music rather than let them find out that she couldn't hear them. Better to be rude than disabled she often quipped to herself. Her forehead wrinkling in concentration, tongue slightly poking out of the side of her mouth as she tried to capture a fair likeness of the blonde cowboy arrogantly poised at the edge of the diorama. He was a handsome devil, that Jedediah, she giggled to herself as the planes of his face were expertly sculpted by her pencil.

Her phone buzzed violently in her pocket as she was trying accurately replicate his 'work duds' from around 200 or so years ago. A giant black mark scarred the page where she had been startled by the alarm. Going to have to get rid of that before I put it on my wall she grumbled to herself while packing away her supplies with a well-practised ease. She headed out the main doors at precisely 4:23pm after waving goodbye to the recent docent Rebecca Hutman. Walking past the impressive Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton by the entrance always gave her the heebie jeebies. She couldn't imagine something being that ancient and being on display for the masses to see – it wasn't disrespectful per se but more, the magnificence of the creature itself resonating beyond its bones and glorifying the entire entrance with its presence. It was a romantic, gallant thought that probably came as a result of her profuse love of adventure stories that guided her thinking at that moment than anything else. Hunching her back against the frigid, snow speckled Southerlies accosting the gilded doors, she headed home.

Knocking on the front door seemed pointless to her now but she did it out of habit. Her sister opened the door clad only in a sports bra and capris both in startling fluorescent. It was Yoga Day at the Cowie Household – Ivy's latest craze and Serena's latest level of personal hell. It just didn't make any logical sense why anyone in their right mind would twist and contort their body into human-sized pretzels on their special mats all for their 'health'. More likely they were going to hurt themselves and earn themselves a trip to the ER than 'rediscover their youth'. But that was just her opinion. Serena smiled hesitantly at her sister, stomping her boots on the porch to remove the snow.

_"__You're back!"_ Ivy signed happily, her motions quick and reflexive from practice. "And just in time!"

_"__Just in time for what?"_ Serena signed slowly, dreading what was coming next. Removing her heavy red coat and hanging it before watching Ivy sign back.

_"__Yoga!" _Spinning wildly, she dragging her unwilling sibling into a frenzied folk dance of excitement. Pulling away hurriedly, Serena calmed her sister.

_"__Ivy, you know I don't like Yoga. You know I'd sooner outlaw it than participate."_ Serena tried to reason with her over-jubilant sibling.

_"__Serena, come on-"_

Serena made an interrupting, sweeping gesture with her hands, _"Enough, it's cold and I just want a hot bath and read. Where is Mum?"_

_"__In the kitchen."_ Ivy pursed her lips, clearly annoyed.

_"__Thank You."_ I smiled gratefully at her, _"I could ask Mum to make some Snickerdoodles!"_

_"__Ok, fine."_ Ivy smiled reluctantly, skipping off to the living room where several Yoga Mats had been stretched out.

Quietly glad that her sister was easily placated, Serena made her way to the Kitchen shaking loose her long corkscrew curls from her head as she did so. This tundra-esque weather did nothing for her unruly mop. Snagging her fingers in a particularly nasty snarl, she tapped her mother on the shoulder with a sheepish look. No signing was necessary as her mother smiled patiently and turned her smartly around as she set upon the task of untangling the mess which was her hair. After a few minutes of tussling with the knot, it came clear. Spinning around to face her mother, Serena smiled appreciatively and signed quickly.

_"__Thank you Mum."_

_"__Most welcome darling. How was the Museum today? Did you do any sketches?"_

_"__Good, they have a couple of cool new exhibits. Half-finished one of the tiny cowboys. Might draw the Shoshone woman next."_

_"__The one with Lewis and Clark?"_

_"__Yes. Or hieroglyphic prints. Haven't decided yet. How has your day been?"_

_"__Fine, did some shopping, talked to Karla from next door. I managed to write a few chapters for my book. I am going to do some baking for the Church Afternoon Tea. Any ideas?"_

Remembering her promise to Ivy, Serena employed her best puppy-dog eyes,_ "Snickerdoodles?"_

Humour lit up the older woman's chocolate brown features, _"Absolutely! Why didn't I think of them before? Do you want to help?"_

_"__I do. I'll just get changed."_

_"__Don't be long."_ Mrs Cowie turned and started searching for the ingredients to make her famous cookies, humming a slight tune to herself as she did so.

Serena bounded up the stairs taking two at a time. This venture didn't last very long as there were 40 odd stairs to her room and she ended up walking at a statelier pace, regulating her breathing nearer to the top. Stepping into her room, she felt at peace. Light blue walls were completely buried in pictures of flora and fauna, her sketches, historic and current articles and posters of her favourite books, plays and movies. It was her room to a 'T'. A cream checked poofed bedspread took up priority with at least five stuffed animals sitting comfortably against the oak headboard. Watching the start-up screen of her ancient laptop light up sluggishly, Serena changing her straight-laced peach blouse and jeans for a faded yellow t-shirt, thread-worn sweatpants and a pair of blue fluffy socks. Sliding quickly across her hardwood floors, she logged on to her computer, quickly flicking through the websites she was affiliated with and checking for any messages. Nothing was there except for an excited message on Facebook from her Grandmother in Los Angeles saying she had 'found someone' at the Arthritic Society. She chuckled to herself, imaging her 80 year old grandmother giggling like a schoolgirl over some other octogenarian. It was rather sweet she supposed. There was something about two older people falling in love at that age that warmed the heart. Dancing over the keys, her fingers flicked a message back to her Grandmother wishing her luck in her 'new endeavours'. She turned slightly and caught her reflection in the full-size mirror next to her door. Her father's hazel eyes stared back at her complimented by her mother's ebony skin. She wasn't skinny by any stretch of the imagination, 'curvy' was the appropriate adjective she thought. Her hair was fond of making her look like the untrimmed hedges they kept outside. No spray, gel or miracle wonder shower products could tame that particular beast. Patting her life-sized stuffed tiger, Tigger, fondly before she headed downstairs, eager to bake her mother's speciality.


	3. The Alan Parsons Project 'Silence and I'

**1 Month Later…**

After enduring 12 weeks of classes at the City University of New York, Serena was especially grateful for the month-long break. She was studying Psychology through a Bachelor of Arts which was code for 'I have no idea what I want to do, so this is just filling in time until I figure it out'. Unfortunately, the adults she seemed to interact with didn't seem to appreciate this secret meaning and were constantly pressing her about what areas she wanted to specialise in within the Psychological Field. It wasn't that she didn't like Psych, she did – she just wasn't sure if she wanted to do that for the rest of life. Still, that was part of being a First Year wasn't it? Stuffing her maelstrom of thoughts about her future into the backburners of her mind, she shuffled downstairs following the sinfully sweet scent of waffles. Wrapping her arms around her mother, she breathed deep her scent of maple syrup, bacon and waffles. Spinning her mother around, she signed sleepily as the smell of breakfast infused her being.

_"__You smell delicious Mum."_ Serena signed with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

_"__I do! Waffles don't cook themselves. How did you sleep?"_

_"__Like a…"_ There was a slight pause as she looked for the right word, _"Pachyderm."_

_"__That's a big word, dear."_ Mum smirked slightly, her smiling eyes twinkling midst her bronzed skin.

_"__I am a big girl Mum." _Serena signed quickly, rolling her eyes before hugging her mother.

_"__Of course, now come and get your breakfast before it turns to ice."_

_"__Now, that would be interesting."_

_"__Get with you!"_ Mrs Cowie smacked Serena lightly on her bottom, pushing her towards the table before taking a second, perfectly stacked plate of waffles to her own place. The dining room was impeccably clean, a slight lasting effect of the severe OCD attacks she had experienced before her therapist, Dr Martin, had been able to step in. Ivy, hair and clothes askew, bounced down the stairs, kissed her mother on the cheek and sat down to eat her plate. Calling attention to her hands, Mrs Cowie signed to the two girls.

_"__Any plans for the week girls?"_

Ivy could hardly contain her excitement, her hands a flurry of motion as she signed, _"I've been invited to Calypso's Midwinter Dinner up at the Old Estate."_

Mrs Cowie widened her eyes in surprise, the Old Estate was one of New York's most prestigious establishments since the 1800s – it had been converted from a prominent House to a Community Hall and recently transformed into a 5-star restaurant with critics raving about how exquisite it was.

_"__That sounds wonderful dear, we will have to go shopping. How about you Serena? Any plans?"_

_"__I am planning to become a new Museum exhibit. Will need wax and glass eyes. Any ideas on what I should be?"_

Ivy and Mrs Cowie looked a little stunned at Serena's announcement.

_"__Kidding. I am going to go to the Library and Museum. I want to make another portrait."_

_"__But you're always at the Museum, I could ask Caly – I'm sure she wouldn't mind you coming! It's going to be fun!"_ Ivy looked beseechingly at Serena.

_"__I'm fine."_

_"__Are you sure? It does seem that you go there a lot. I know Calypso wouldn't mind. Why don't you ask one of your friends to come over? I haven't seen Rachel in ages."_

_"__It's alright Mum, honestly. I am going to make some sketches of the new exhibit."  
>"What's the new exhibit featuring? Fashion? Shoes? Starbucks? Women's Rights?"<em> Ivy, despite Serena's best efforts to fascinate her in the intricacies of History and Science, remained a 21st century minded girl.

_"__None of those. Focus on the 2__nd__World War and the soldiers that died. Exhibits visiting from New Zealand. Gallipoli and the Western Front – ANZAMS?"_

_"__ANZACS, dear."_ Serena's mother good-naturedly spelt out the right acronym.

_"__Right. It's an interactive exhibit. Touchscreens and real tack, equipment and rations that you can touch and taste! It's opening this week."_

_"__Sounds very interesting darling. I'll have to visit it sometime. Now Ivy, about your outfit…"_

The conversation continued, filled with elaborate descriptions of taffeta dresses, wraps and essential clutches. Ivy switched to Spoken English when she got particularly excited, her mother still continuing patiently in Sign Language when she forgot. Serena had never been into such fancies, she preferred to be tucked up in her warm bed reading a novel while drinking one of her mother's herbal tea mixtures perhaps reading about her favourite heroes at a dinner party. It wasn't that she didn't want to get involved but her presence made it harder for those around her. She hated people having to go to a special effort for her or feeling awkward because they weren't able to communicate with her. All that aside, she was happy for Ivy even if Ivy's exuberance made her yearn for times before she had lost her hearing.

Carefully erasing the dark smudge from her portrait, she tacked it onto her display wall opposite her bed. She pinned him next to the Roman General Octavius adjacent to a rough sketch of the capuchin monkey the Museum had given the moniker 'Dexter'. She had sketches of most of the exhibits including a couple of Attila the Hun. He had been hard to draw, especially when she had found out that a favourite pastime of his was pulling the limbs off his enemies. That made their cherubic features slightly grimmer. Exhaling languidly, she flopped backwards onto her bed and snuggled deeply with her stuffed toys. Most people would snicker and pity the fact she still had her childish keepsakes, even though she was rounding 20 years of age. However, her reasons for holding onto them went much deeper than simple childish sentiment. When she was little, she had been tormented by night terrors. Every fortnight was the same, she could see the goblins, witches and demons she had read about coming to take her away. She'd wake up screaming in panic, slick in sweat, her parents rushing to her room and desperately trying to calm their terrified child. It had taken only three episodes before her father had found a solution. He'd given her a set of four toys – a starfish, turtle, elephant and a lion. She had been happy but confused by his unusual choice. He had then explained that each toy had a special job to do – Penta the Starfish would stick with her no matter what, Cruise the Turtle would remind her of happier times and help give her peace, Ellie the Elephant represented strength and she was to hug her tightly absorb it, and last, Valiant the Lion was brave and she would hide behind him and let him fight the demon monsters that haunted her sleep. Since The Accident, there had been a horde of bad dreams but the toys always reminded her to stay strong through the terror and that her Daddy was always looking after her, no matter where he was.

Gathering up her art supplies into her worn leather messenger bag, she picked up a print-out about ciphering Egyptian hieroglyphics on her way out. The Egyptology Wing today. It had been decided. Sending a quick text to her mother letting her know her whereabouts, she stowed the phone away and headed out into the brisk morning. The snow was pristine, thickly covering every surface and if Serena imagined hard enough she could almost hear the crunch her footprints made. One of the more difficult aspects of her condition was the fact that she could remember what the world had sounded like before she had lost her connection. Occasionally, she was still surprised when she heard nothing when she expected a loud noise and then she would remember. Stuffing her hands resolutely in her pockets, she strode the familiar path to the Museum; a path that crunched in the snow.

The Museum was buzzing, swarms of visitors crawled and circled around every crevice, nook and cranny. She could almost feel the seismic vibrations such activity would cause – like a hive of steroid-infused bees. Flashing her card at the front desk had earned her a quick smile from Rebecca, before she had turned her head to the next customer. Serena didn't mind, she knew where she was going anyway. Winding her way skilfully between the crowds, she slipped quietly towards her destination.

'King Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth king, ruler of the land of his fathers, lived around blah blah blah…' The plaque certainly was informative, giving detailed accounts of significant moments in the boy-king's life but it was also long-winded and devoid of life. Serena scanned it quickly, wanting to start her ciphering. Of particular importance it seemed was his golden tablet, rumoured to have magical properties, it had pride of place above the locked, gold-plated sarcophagus. The glyphs on the tablet fascinated Serena, shining in the mid-morning light. Enticingly, they seemed to glisten before her, just out of reach behind the security tape. She leant slightly forward, entranced by the colours and swirling caricatures. That couldn't be right, cuneiform doesn't move. Shaking her head clear of such nonsensical thoughts, she decided she would return later on, when the word-pictures weren't inducing hallucinations. Alright, Sacagawea game on, she thought determinedly as she wound her way to the American History Gallery. Hopefully, the Shoshone woman wouldn't suddenly get up and start glowing and break-dancing in front of her, that would be weird and… slightly blasphemous, her thoughts replied sarcastically.

The Shoshone woman didn't end up emanating magical light or showing the slightest hint of moment much to Serena's relief. However, getting her facial features just right was just becoming frustrating as she rubbed out her failed nose for the fifth time. Who would have thought that such a simple thing as a nose could be so ornery in nature? Checking her phone, the screen read 3:45pm. She was going to have to be quick if she wanted any of the glyphs for deciphering. Sending a mental thank-you to her wax muse, Serena rapidly made her way back to Egypt, her sketchbook teetering precariously out of her bag. She imagined she looked quite a sight, maddening curls sticking up at all angles, charcoal marking her face like a bizarre kind of war paint with her clothes in their normal bohemian state. It was a wonder she wasn't mistaken for one of the warrior Huns. Skidding to a stop directly in front of the glass-protected sarcophagus, her sketchbook spun wildly out of her bags followed by four of her favourite pencils. Groaning inwardly, she picked up all of her effects before coming face-to-face with a darkly bearded face and concerned periwinkle eyes. He looked middle-aged, laugh lines etched around his mouth and eyes. Serena judged him to be a friendly soul as evidenced by the way he helped her with her things. Taking the pencils from his rough hands she looked him over. Bedecked in a navy blue uniform with a distinctive walkie-talkie at his side, he looked official and familiar. Ah, one of the Museum day guards. That made sense, they were mostly a good sort – making sure people were okay and keeping an eye on preserving the exhibits. Blushing deeply, she mouthed thank you to… she peered at his name tag… Nigel. He smiled and went back to his post at the other end of the hall. If it's quite alright with you Universe, she thought, I'd like to get some glyphs down before the Museum closes. The Universe, unsurprisingly, didn't reply. Taking that as a tentative yes, Serena sat cross-legged in front of one of the Temple walls and began to copy the markings lit by the dying afternoon light.

The tablet wouldn't leave her alone. As incredible as this sounded, it was probably the only accurate description she could attribute to the glowing piece. She had deliberately turned away from the golden distraction but it always seemed to catch the corner of her eye – like some kind of demented Egyptian Mona Lisa. Fine, what do you want with me? Serena questioned. The tablet glowed brazenly back. Do you want to be sketched? I can assure you there were more skilful artists from whence you came. The tablet didn't reply. She looked around her, no-one was around to witness her silent conversation with the exhibit. Seriously? I have other things to do. She could almost hear awkward crickets chirruping in the background. For one, I am in the middle of deciphering this sentence – she gestured strongly at her sketch, it is not easy I can assure you. The mystical piece then shone, each of its components shimmering alluringly. She got up from the floor and tried to get a better look. It looked like… that couldn't be possible, could it? It certainly seemed like the tablet was alive. Okay, magical attention-hungry tablet… I haven't got long but I'll make a quick outline of you, will that satisfy you? The piece seemed to agree as it stopped trying to blind her with its magnificence into submission. The area around the sarcophagus including the tablet was taped off. Serena was loathe to cross it but she knew she needed to if she wanted to get a decent look at the thing. It wasn't like she was going to touch it or anything, she reasoned rationally as she dipped under the security tape and took residence behind the sarcophagus. I won't be here for long anyway, I just want to get the details right, she thought to herself, yawning lightly. Taking up her best charcoal pencil, she began her study. It wasn't long before the heady temperature of the room and the intricate detail of her task caused her eyelids to droop sleepily. As the page began to blur and her head felt so heavy, she thought she'd just close her eyes for a few minutes. Within seconds she was soundly asleep, her quiet breaths filling the hollow antechamber. She slumbered, pencil in hand as the darkness of night enveloped the room. The tablet, however, did not sleep.


	4. Simple Plan 'Astronaut'

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your support :) Really helps in the writing process, and without further ado - Chapter 4**

Awaking with a start, she groggily looked around and realised she must have fallen asleep and that it must be that nice guard… Nicky? Nigella? Nigel? shaking her awake. It was a firm but insistent hand on her shoulder. She was caught. Serena hated calling attention to herself. Ducking slightly, she waved off the guard and gathered her things together. It was significantly darker that she had remembered. It must be one of the night guards telling her to clear off. Rising to her feet, she tried to get her hair under control and discreetly wiped her mouth of any stray sleep drool. Yep, there was some. Wonderful. Looking up at the guard, she smiled bashfully and went to leave but did a double take. Okay, this bloke took 'dress up' next level. Apricot coloured Egyptian robes swirled around his sandaled feet, a jewelled belt with some kind of bejewelled loincloth in front. What was he, a Mardi Gras escapee? Not only was he bedazzled down south, he also seemed to have a decorated necklace and a realistic Pharaohs' crown and… is that a t-shirt..? No, those are abs. This guy took his job way too seriously. Trying to retain some shred of dignity, she tried to back away from this Egypt fanatic. My goodness, he even has kohl around his gorgeously chocolate eyes! Calm down, Serena, stifle those raging hormones – you're just going to embarrass yourself. Smiling hesitantly, arms up in a surrendering position, Serena started stepping backwards, away from the very cute, very young guard and closer to the exit, Fate struck quite literally as she tripped backwards onto a very large, very real golden spear impaled into the ground a foot away from her. Two massive 20ft jackals peered menacingly around the Temple entrance, each with their own golden loincloth. One of them was missing a spear. Fully freaking out now, her eyes bugging out and limbs shaking in fear she scooted backwards, hitting the wall behind her hard. The nice Pharaoh-guard was trying to placate her, his calming gestures were not effective in the least. Suddenly his features flickered to panic and she should've taken that warning instead of trusting that the Universe would take care of her. The golden tablet she had been sketching shook precariously once above her head then came plummeting down onto her head. Her last thought before she blacked out was the tablet had a real attitude problem, he might need to see Dr Martin. The enormous guardian jackals looked on as their stricken King shook the senseless girl in a mad panic. Desperate calls for 'Larry Daley, Guardian of Brooklyn' echoed through the empty chamber and into the lively, exhibit-ridden halls.

**30 Minutes Later…**

Serena was glad of the old couch though scratchy, flea-ridden (most likely) and smelling of dust; it was infinitely superior to a cold marble floor in terms of sleeping capability. Her head was pounding, she reached delicately up to touch the back of her skull. Sure enough, an egg-sized bump like the cartoons on Saturday mornings had started to form. It was going to be fun explaining this to Mum. Wait! Mum would be having kittens and those kittens would be making mittens worrying where she was. Her eyes flashed open and she tried to get up. Bad, very bad idea. Mental note for the future: Head injuries don't like sudden movements. What Joy. The room spun like a proverbial top, only slowing down when she lay flat on her back. She surveyed her surroundings, metal lockers lined one wall of the poky room, the floor was dusty, a single naked bulb illuminated the space, and the ceiling was rather uninteresting in its drab colouring. Someone must have dragged her sorry carcass to the night guard locker room she surmised. Security guards, after all, were not chosen on their artistic ability although that Pharaoh one could be the exception. Her head winced at the memory of their encounter. A large, black messenger bag half-full of items was stashed in the corner, presumably full of snacks or caffeine supplements to help the poor soul stuck on night duty she guessed. Something tapped her feet, she looked down and saw a Museum guard in proper uniform. This man was not like the other one. He was an older, middle-aged white man with intelligent, bright blue eyes, dark hair and very interesting cheekbones. She would love a chance to try and capture his essence on paper.

"Hi, how're you doing? I'm Larry, Larry Daley and I'm the new night guard here. I have to ask, what exactly where you trying to do in the Egyptology Wing?"

Serena got her hands ready to give him the universal sign that she was deaf when she realised something monumental. She could hear him. For the first time in 2 years since The Accident she could hear what he was saying to her. Rendered speechless in shock, her mouth hung open like a bass fish.

"Uh, Miss? Can you hear me? Dang it, she must be deaf. I know a little…" Larry then proceeded to jerkily motion and enunciate his words.

"I-", her voice came out in a rusty husk. She cleared her throat, "I'm not deaf." Her hands, so used to forming her words, were still motioning. The words sounded strange and foreign to her ears.

"Oh, thank goodness. Honestly, all I know in Sign Language is 'Help' and 'Are you deaf?' I know, not particularly helpful. So in answer to my previous question, who are you and what were you doing?"

"I'm… not… deaf!" Serena gasped incredulously. How was this possible? It wasn't possible. She cupped her hands over her ears then released them. She could hear everything, her interrogator, the soft hum of the heater in the corner, footsteps in the floors above them. It was amazing. It was insane – was she dead and this was some kind of sub-par afterlife processing station?

"Yes… I think we established that. Are you quite alright Miss? Do you know who you are? Do you know where you are?"

Snapping quickly back to reality, she answered hesitantly, "My name's Serena, Serena Cowie. I live on the Upper West Side in Manhattan, 13 on 74th Street. I am 19 ½ years old, my birthstone is a pearl. I'm undertaking a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Psychology at the City University of New York and my home phone number is-", the torrent of words flowing out of her mouth like a river that had been undammed. She looked up to see Larry looking slightly overwhelmed by the overloading of information. She cleared her throat, "Yeah, you don't really need to know that. I have a question for you though, is this some kind of purgatory?"

"What? No, at least, I hope not." He chuckled quietly to himself, Serena loved the sound. "A lot about this place would make more sense if it were. But no, you're at the illustrious night guard locker rooms at the Museum of Natural History." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand introduce her to his decrepit abode. "Now, what do you remember exactly from before you decided to play chicken with the tablet?"

"I was sketching the hieroglyphics on the tablet." Man, her voice sounded weird. It was all high pitched and squeaky. "I must have fallen asleep." She tried to stuff her overactive signing hands underneath herself but they kept coming back, entering into the conversation of their own volition; like some kind of possessed jazz troupe. "I remember a guard in apricot drag shaking me awake, tripping over a golden spear twice as big as me and then the tablet falling."

"Okay. Wait, guard in drag? Really? Ankh is so not going to be impressed." He mumbled the rest of the sentence, the words sliding under his breath as he snickered.

"Seriously, that's what I remember!"

"No, no, I believe you. I absolutely believe you. Uh, alright. How am I going to explain this?"

"I don't know and at the moment, I don't care. Could you please pass me my phone? I need to text my mother to say that I'm alright."  
>Larry shrugged casually, clearly distracted, "I've already done that. Don't worry."<p>

"You what?"

"I, uh, sent a text to your mother saying you were staying late at the Museum for a special late night unveiling of the new exhibit. She seemed fine with it."

"You hacked into my phone? That's a criminal offense in some states!"

"Serena? That's your name right? Your phone's password was default. I didn't hack it, I just unlocked it. No problem alright? Just calm down a little and let me think."

The stark light bulb crackled cantankerously. She could smell the age of the place, a distinct tang of dust, mothballs and mould. She could hear the rumbling of pipes above her and some sort of commotion on the upper floors.

"Mr Daley? I need to tell you one other thing."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Before I blacked out, I was 100% deaf. I was clinically unable to hear anything or anyone."

"But you can hear me right now?"

"Yes."

"This is so not worth $11.50 an hour." Rubbing his eyes, he looked sceptically at her, "Are you absolutely sure you weren't able to hear beforehand? This isn't some kind of elaborate story to sue the Museum at a later point."  
>"Absolutely positive, also my hands won't stop signing what I am saying so isn't that proof enough? You could probably check my phone history, that'll tell you that for the last two years I've lived in a world of silence until tonight."<p>

"That tablet's brought us nothing but trouble. I'm going to have to get Ankh and Saca. You lie still a minute, I'll send Teddy in to take care of you. Yeah, he can deal with the whole 'coming to life' thing." He spoke mostly to himself while opening the door to the rest of the Museum. He turned his head back to her, "You'll be alright, just take it easy okay? Just stay here." With that said, he left the room. The ancient door squealed on its axis as it suddenly shut and Serena was left alone with her thoughts and her brand new noises.


	5. Avicii 'Wake Me Up'

"Lawrence, you can't just foist me upon the girl and expect me to explain the workings of this establishment. It's just not cricket, my boy." Urgent whispering followed this statement. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Lawerence, you need to man up and take charge of your own destiny. Why don't you send in Nicholas? He's closer to her age." Palpable silence. "Fine, but this is the last time Lawrence. You find some other fool to do your dirty laundry. Texas, go home."

The door opened hesitantly. Serena craned her head forward to see her new visitor.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Ah yes, my child." Harrumphing slightly, the male voice continued, "My name is Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of these United States. At your service." The door swung open fully, revealing a tall man dressed in sand-coloured, dated military gear entering the room. One-side of his military hat was pinned up with a gleaming crossed-guns brooch. Serena determined he was a man of action, a soldier perhaps – the way he strode into the room and surveyed his surroundings before settling his gaze on her, spoke of an acute awareness not seen in many civilians. His spectacles and walrus moustache were certainly the most startling fashion choice she had seen that day. This night was just getting weirder and weirder.

"Ah there you are. Bully! Now, Lawrence has-"

"Um, I'm sorry but is this some kind of joke?" She sat up on the couch, wincing slightly as the room started to behave like a Lazy Susan.

"I'm sorry, my dear?"

"Are you even allowed to wear that? I'm pretty sure that is a historical artefact and property of the Museum. You are most certainly not paid to stroll around these halls bedecked in your favourite wax figurine. It's preposterous!" Her voice was cracking with indignation, "First the Egypt fanatic, now you with your accent and the bush on your lip. You can't just go and rip clothes off the nearest exhibit and try them on. It's just not right. What is wrong with you people? Have you no respect for this hallowed institution?" Serena was working herself into a right rant, her blood boiled at the thought of these errant night guards parading around the darkened Museum in their stolen outfits. It sickened her to the core.

"I mean, who do you think you are? What gives you the right to take liberty with the displays when no-one's around? Your dedication to the character is admirable, moustache and all – can you even see through those glasses? They look like magnifying lenses, you must be blind as a bat! I am going to talk to your supervisor tomorrow, just you wait and see. You'll lose your jobs over this, the both of you."

The President stood gobsmacked, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish. He seemed suitably rebuked, Serena thought, if a little too confused for the situation. He attempted to open his mouth to speak but nothing was coming out except a prolonged gasp. He shut his mouth quickly, saluted and then marched out of the room in militaristic fashion.

Serena lay back onto the couch. When she was sure the President was out of earshot, she groaned loudly. All that righteous exertion took its toll on her delicate cranium. Massaging her temples, she looked around for something to do until her head decided it would be okay with her walking home. She was not looking forward to trudging home through the sleet she could hear whistling outside. Her phone! It still had some music on it. She had wiped most of it off after one particularly frustrating session with her Sign Language tutor. Leaning over the edge of the couch, she quickly picked up her bag and fished her phone out. Three songs sat in her playlist – 'Sleep Away' by Bob Acri, 'Kalimba' by Mr Scruff and 'Maid With The Flaxen Hair' by Richard Stoltzman. She played the first one, and stuck the media on repeat. Sinking deeper into the couch with her earphones, she waited for the playback to begin. Never had the default songs in her player had ever sounded so sweet and melodious.

When Larry came back into the room, the last thing he expected to see was a 19 year-old girl sobbing her heart out to 'Sleep Away' playing full blast from her phone's earphones and a rather shamefaced Teddy standing just outside the door.

"Um, hi again. What's going on here?"

Serena sniffled and wiped her face harshly, slightly embarrassed to be caught crying to instrumental music in the locker room.

"I, uh, haven't heard music in two years and there were some songs on my phone. Sorry."

"That's okay… just, uh, what happened to Teddy?"

"I may have told him what I thought about a paid night guard tramping around the Museum in historical dress. There is no excuse for such frivolity. It's a Museum for goodness sake, not a theatre." Serena sniffed, unashamed of her actions.

"Hang on, he didn't tell you? Teddy! Get back here!"

"Good luck Lawrence!" The sound of hoofprints leaving echoed through the quiet room.

"Okay… just calm down alright? I just need you to listen, can you do that? The exhibits, they're alive, just like you and me, okay? Just entertain that thought for a minute, I know how crazy it sounds. They come to life each night because of the power in the tablet of Akhmenrah. My job as a night guard to keep them all safe inside the Museum. If they are outside when the sun comes up they turn to dust. "

"You're telling me the tablet that conked me out, has the power to reanimate objects and that it has done so since it has been created?"

"Yes!"

"And every night of the week all of the exhibits come to life and walk around for the sheer heck of it and nobody else knows this except the night guards? And your job is to keep them all inside otherwise they vaporise in sunlight? Like a historically accurate set of vampires?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Right. Well, as fantastic as this all is, I'd like to get home if at all possible. I have a real life and a real family to get back to. Best of luck with your walking circus freak show. Sure you'd be a real hit in Times Square or Broadway. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Walking circus? Freak show? I ain't gonna stand for this no longer. Now you see here, Miss," A Southern drawl piqued from Larry's breast pocket, "we're real as can be and we're just how God intended. Dang it! We have feelings and all. So just suck it up lil' miss high-and-mighty. This kind of talk ain't acceptable and it's downright hurtful, you tell her Gigantor-"

"Jedediah, calm down. There is no need for such blatant insults. I'm sure she's just trying to process all this information. Perhaps we should leave her for a moment, my liege?"

Two tiny figures peeked out of Larry's breast pocket, a blonde cowboy and a Roman general poked their heads out to glare at Serena. The jean-clad cowboy 'Jedediah' was turning several shades of a popular primary colour, straining against the confines of the cotton, swinging his arms menacingly. The Roman in full battle dress with a red toga held him back with a well-practised air.

"What the fresh hell is going on?" Genuinely disturbed by the minuscule moving figurines, Serena stared horrified at Larry. "What have you done to me? I have sketches of those… miniatures… how the hell are they moving? What kind of sick trick is this? How the hell are they alive? This is just wrong, so so wrong." Serena grabbed her bag, pushed past Larry and the talking tiny demons and ran outside into the Lobby and nearly fell over backwards in shock.


	6. Matchbox 20 'How Far We've Come'

**A/N: Hey everyone ****J****I have been so surprised with the attention this story is getting. Thank you so much for your reviews and support, it has been so lovely. Special thanks to DJpaigeDJ, VampireWolfGirl15, divergentlover523, dotRHEA, .1379, iamQuoz, icefire101, keacdragon, m00nlightsamurai, mezzieb1, snakeyeslover2, , Seanchow806Napoleonic, Vasunshinegrl96 for following/favouriting my first fanficition. Makes me smile a little more and really inspires the writing process ****J**

The entire reception was entrenched in moving creatures, both great and small; organised chaos reigned as king. A woolly mammoth plodded the upper rooms, trumpeting its arrival. The bronze statue of Columbus spoke Italian to a group of dirt-encrusted Neanderthals. Several African cries resounded throught the chamber. Clanging and ringing of metal echoed through the room. The T-rex from the front desk was searching hungrily for something to munch, causing havoc wherever he placed his skeletal toes. The capuchin monkey 'Dexter' sat screeching his head off atop the spinning globe. The smell of smoke could be tasted on the air. Civil War faceless puppet-men were re-enacting a violent war scene. An ostrich had got into the pamphlets and was choking up a storm. Terracotta soldiers started to march up and down the grand staircase, calling strict orders as they did so. An Asian group of men clad in furs were chatting intensely with one another, their attention suddenly switching to her. The leader looked strangely familiar. Oh no, her thoughts caught up with her with a sickening jolt.

"Ter minii nüüriig zursan! Tüüniig barij!" Gesturing to his men, Attila started running towards her, a menacing smile on his cherubic features. Serena suddenly recalled his most favourite pastime and took to her heels as fast as her legs would take her.

Serena had never considered herself to be a damsel, certainly not one of those silly fainting creatures from the Austen Regency era. But at that moment she wanted nothing more than some brave knight in shining armour to save her no matter how cliché it was. Screaming in fright, she ran down one of the slick marble corridors to the elevator. As the Huns loomed ever closer, she desperately smashed the closing doors button. A tip of one of their swords managed to nick her shoulder as she tried to push the doors to close faster. And then, elevator music.

'If You Like Pina Coladas' played it's cheerful tune, filling the occupied elevator with happy music while Serena sat in the corner of the metal box and tried to piece her life back together. Her head was spinning out of control with all this new information. The Museum had the slogan 'Where History Comes to Life' plastered all over the front door, was that a clever joke from one of the night guards or a charming coincidence? Serena held her head in her hands, trying to grasp all the concepts swirling in her mind. The entire Museum was alive at night, literally. Not just in the marketing sense. Serena groaned, burying her head into her chest. It just wasn't possible. Slowly, under her breath she chanted her mantra: 'Penta Ellie Cruise and Valiant are all here with me', a technique encouraged by Dr Martin for whenever she got stressed or fearful. Why was this happening to her? She didn't ask for it. She didn't want it. Breathing deep, she got up and tied her hair back. This was all just some elaborate hoax. Maybe she had hit her head that hard and she was in a hospital somewhere. Wake up you idiot, she instructed her conscious self, I've had quite enough of your messed-up sub-conscious, we are going to need serious therapy after this. I mean weekly sessions with Dr Martin. There seemed to be no response from her conscious 'hospitalised' self. There was one other option, that what Larry said was true. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? If it was a dream, one did have to accept the ridiculous sometimes. Standing up slowly, she pressed the elevator button for the second floor and waited to see where Fate would lead her. Michael Jackson's 'Beat It' starting playing appropriately as she descended. Serena wasn't planning to teach the Huns to dance.

The doors slid smoothly open and Serena stepped quietly outside. She wasn't sure if this was a good idea or not with an ancient Asian warrior out for blood still on the loose but she had to get out of this place. Constantly scanning the desolate halls for any sign of movement, she made her way and rounded the corner. A giant Maoi statue rumbled into life as she passed.

"Hey dum-dum, you bring me gum-gum?" His booming voice bounced off the dark walls sending little copies of his speech to every crevice.

"What? No. That's rude. Why would you want that? You're a stone carving, you can't even digest it." The Maoi looked miffed. "Can you keep it down please? I'm trying to hide." Serena couldn't believe she was trying to rationalise with a rock. It was that kind of night she supposed.

The Maoi statue looked properly hurt. He suddenly let out a rumbling groan that grew into a deafening roar rattling the very foundations of the building.

"What the hell are you doing?" Serena whispered fiercely.

The Maoi smiled evilly, "You better run-run dum-dum, I know Attila the Hun-Hun."

A familiar warrior's cry sounded from down the hall. Oh no, not again. Speeding away from the statue she yelled over her shoulder, "Thanks for nothing, you stupid rock." And she was on the run again.

**A/N: Any ideas, comments, constructive criticisms or random thoughts? Please leave them in the white box below and I will most certainly read them :)**


	7. Owl City 'Shine Your Way'

**A/N: Thank you to RandomPerson and Oddments and Tweaks. Your suggestions were gratefully received, sometimes it's really easy to get caught up in writing the main plotline of the story and forget some of the details that are required to make a story better. **

Sprinting down the stairs had seemed like a good idea at the time, but, like Serena's original plans for that night, nothing was going to plan. The Hun soldiers were hot on her heels; she could almost hear their ponytailed hats swishing behind her. Sneaking a glance behind her, she was accosted with the angry, sweaty face of Attila two feet behind her. That look had been fatal; tripping over her big feet she awkwardly tumbled down the remainder of the stairs and landed squarely on her back. Scooting backwards on her butt, she tried to put as much distance as possible between her fragile flesh and the bloodthirsty Mongolians. She rammed backwards into a pair of legs, looking up urgently at her to-be saviour. She groaned inwardly when she recognised him. He spoke a few calm words to the Hun tribe and they walked away reluctantly, slightly disgusted by whatever he had said to them.

"Why hello there," the young man looked comically down at her, his English was perfectly British despite his appearance, "I don't think we've been formally introduced. I am Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth king, ruler of the lands of my father. And you are?"

"Very grateful, your highness but I am afraid I must be on my way. I need to get home." Serena got unsteadily to her feet, taking the offered hand. Swaying slightly, she clung to the wall trying to find her centre. The room spun sickeningly around her. She could hear the other exhibits making a right din. The adrenaline was wearing off for sure. Disorientated, her glazed vision blurred dangerously.

"Are you quite alright?" The concern in his brown eyes was touching but also slightly unnerving. If what Larry said was true, this man, not much younger than her, was really around 4000 years old. Stars started to dance before her eyes and the last comprehensible thing that went through her mind was that she hoped this pretty Pharaoh was strong. A resounding thump seconds after her mind short-circuited quickly discontinued that belief.

If people who experience déjà vu have it quite often does the feeling of déjà vu become an additional déjà vu experience and they are déjà vu-ing a déjà vu experience? She giggled at the inane thought. Serena's mind wandered haphazardly as it tried to claw its way back up to reality. Someone had dragged her butt all the way back to the locker room again. Such fun. This time there was a new visitor, with painkillers! Yippee!

"Hello, I'm Serena." Her hands dangled lazily in front of her, still stubbornly signing every word even though there was no need. "I was deaf this morning but not anymore! I can hear dead people!" She giggled inanely to the newcomer.

"I might have given her too strong a dose…" The woman looked worriedly at Larry.

"Hey, I know you. You're that tracker lady Sackar-whoo-ji-flibbet, Sack-in-a-box, Sac-ea-ge."

The Shoshone woman looked over at her patient with kind eyes, "That is not my name. But you may call me Saca."

"I tried to draw your nose today, it wasn't cooperating."

"I know, I saw you sketching. You are very good."

"No, no I'm not." She sighed deeply and fell back into the cushions. Curling up under a fleece blanket someone had draped over her, she whispered, "Dad never knew that I could draw."

She was beginning to secretly hate that locker room. Moaning softly, she reached up and touched the back of her skull; there were now two bulbous patches hammering her brain to pieces. Not that anyone was going to see them; hiding discreetly underneath her mock-afro hair but it was still painful. She was never going to be the same after this, she was sure. Her hearing was incredibly sensitive to every sound within earshot. She could hear the rumbling hiss of the pipes above her, the sound of running water, the humming of the mini fridge and the sound of an imperiously cleared throat.

"Ah, Lawrence, she has returned to the land of the living. How are you my dear?"

"You again?" Serena looked grumpily at the loud President, "You look like a caterpillar has decided to live on your upper lip, what is up with that? That thing is nasty."

"She seems to be in tip top shape, I'll leave you to her." The President walked away briskly, the merest hint of pink present on his generous cheeks.

"So Teddy wasn't making it up. You did take him down a peg or two. I've never seen anyone do that before. Anyway, how are you holding up? You've had quite the night." The night guard smiled down at her joined by the Pharaoh.

"I'm fine, thank you." She began to get up and gather her things, "Thanks for taking care of me and thanks for saving me." She nodded her head in each of their respective directions.

"No problem."

"It was my pleasure Serena. The Huns make rather a mess when they do manage to pull people apart on the odd occasion, luckily it all comes out with bleach." He finished nonchalantly.

Serena stared at him in horror. Larry glared at Ahkmenrah.

"Too dark?" The young king questioned Larry. The latter nodded feverishly.

Serena shook her head briskly, immediately regretting it as the pounding in her head intensified. "Now, if it's not too much trouble, I'd really like to head home now." She checked her watch, "It's… What? Only 9:30pm? Does time slow down here too? I don't care, could I catch a lift with someone – preferably in a car, not a chariot." She looked pointedly at the grinning Pharaoh, her patience was wearing thin.

"Sure, 73rd right?"

"74th, close enough." She stood up blearily and took the arm of the pretty Pharaoh as they exited the room. Larry stayed back to look for his car keys. She had a sudden thought. Turning to the royalty beside her, she questioned, "What did you say to those Huns anyway? They looked pretty cowed after you had spoken to them."

Ahkmenrah's face lit up with mischief, "Oh, I just told them you had recently caught a highly infectious disease and that anyone who touched you would die a long and painful death."

"What?! You told them I was a walking death-trap? You've got some nerve mister." She pushed him playfully. Wait. Was she… flirting with a 4000 year old walking corpse? She tried not to linger on that for too long.

"It's a required characteristic when dealing with Huns. They are one of the most fearsome races that ever roamed the planet. Although, lucky for you, they are not quite as intelligent as your Egyptian saviour." He responded with a cheeky grin.

"Shut up…" Blushing deeply, she swiftly changed topics to safer waters, "How'd you learn Hun anyway? I thought you were an Egyptian Pharaoh unless that's part of the act too…"

"Well, you see I went to Cambridge University and there was a Professor there, Professor Denver and he had a particular fascination for…" The Pharaoh continued his story, where over 4000 years he developed the patience and had the time to learn most dialects that he came across. The two walked to the car in a companionable manner, the Pharaoh carrying the conversation as Serena walked, listening sleepily to his stories. His voice was soothing, low and rhythmic, to her recently developed hearing.

"Goodnight. I hope we shall see each other again Serena."

Serena curled into the warmth of the passenger seat, "'Night Ahkmenrah, *yawn* you're pretty…" She slapped her hand over her mouth but it was in vain. The comical look on the Pharaoh's face as he tried to comprehend what she had just said was priceless. She couldn't believe she had said that out loud. Larry struggled to contain his mirth at the dumbstruck King standing in the snow. She could feel her whole body turning crimson, "I didn't mean it like-"

"I'll see you when I get back Ahk, don't be getting too big a head now." Larry couldn't stop laughing as he reversed out of the Staff car park, leaving the bewildered Pharaoh in a shower of snow dust.

**A/N: Feel free to comment, critique or share your ideas. Always appreciated ****J**


	8. Steve Conte 'Heaven's Not Enough'

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! I've been finding it rather hard just to wrap my head around the direction this story is taking. Had a few writer's block moments and that hasn't been particularly pleasant. We shall see how things work themselves out :) Anyway, without further ado..**

**The Next Morning…**

She knew it had been too good to be true. She'd been so excited the next morning, waking up at the butt crack of dawn, springing out of bed and tugging her clothes on haphazardly. She couldn't wait to head down to the Museum to see all the exhibits again. She'd made it to the front door before she realised something. She couldn't hear anything. A noiseless void had once again engulfed her senses. The shock and betrayal of her loss of hearing had caused her to start bawling like a cantankerous child. She tried to talk, scream, yell but she could hear nothing. Nothing penetrated the soundless barrier. It was all a stupid dream? It wasn't fair to be given the one thing she had wanted and have it taken away again so quickly. Rebellious tears started to fall down her face, she wiped them away angrily but it had no effect. Fleeing to the safety of her room she broke down, sobbing into her pillow while her family slept on. She could still feel the twin bumps on the back of her head, she figured must have whacked her head while she slept. Twice. They still hurt. Locking the door of her room, she isolated herself in her silent world once again. She came down for meals and was glad Ivy had conversation enough for three people with the Midwinter only days away. She retreated at the earliest opportunity. Her mother came to check on her hours later, she fathom what had made her child so angry and upset. She stood in the doorway and watched her daughter sleep for a few minutes, her features still tense in slumber. She cast her eyes around her room and noticed a new feature on her display wall. A red paintbrush had been taken to the group of Museum sketches spelling out the words 'NOT REAL' in flowing crimson script. Mrs Cowie would keep a close eye on her for the next couple of days; if it got any worse she'd call Dr Martin. He always seemed to know what to do.

**Two Days Later…**

Right, it's about time you got over yourself and your silly fantasies. Accept that it was a nice yet totally unrealistic dream and move on. Great pep talk Ser, you're doing well today. Stepping out of her bed and shivering at the sudden change in temperature, she pulled a jumper over her pyjamas. She had to get out today, firstly because cleaning her bedroom could only be done a certain number of times before it loses its initial thrill and secondly, Mum was threatening to call Dr Martin if she didn't 'buck up'. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her insane 'talking exhibit' dreams with a shrink and analyse what they mean. Blowing a stray curl from her face, she assembled her materials into her bag and headed outside. She concluded that at the Library with the amount of visitors, it was unlikely she would come across any reanimated statues whether in real life or in her dreams. Four layers of clothing and a scratchy woollen jumper, it was beginning to get a bit warm inside the house. It was snowing softly outside, the tiny flakes pirouetting daintily in the soft breeze. Wrapping herself in her downy white jacket, she expected she looked rather more like a bloated marshmallow than a teenage girl but she didn't care. She was warm and that was all that mattered.

Catching a bus from the end of the street, she hopped off at the New York Public Library near the Lincoln Centre. Entering the giant arches of the majestic institution felt like entering another world. Intricately decorated chandeliers gently illuminated neat, orderly rows of desks edged by tightly packed shelves. It bespoke fondly of times long ago, times lost, where the only information a body could access was at one of these places. Where the library was a valuable resource, a fountain of knowledge and wealth instead of the diminishing resource it was today being replaced by search engines and the Internet. Serena liked to think of herself as a valued member of the Library but she was, in truth, one of the many patrons that would frequent. Her favourite aspect was the cloud paintings situated directly in the middle of the ceiling making a long banner with regular breaks. Clouds were so superficial, they were only made of water vapour after all, but they had a unique ability. Maybe it was their unusual shapes or the fact that they were so light and free but they always made her feel at peace. Looking at those simple pictures always helped to centre her and change her perspective about a problem. In short, they were characterised her 'happy place' as Dr Martin would put it. Breathing deep of the must, glue and distinctive old book smell, Serena balanced an armload of reading material and found a table to sit and spend the afternoon. This was her slice of heaven in her world of turmoil; it kept her sane especially during those times of frustration or loneliness she felt as a result of her deafness. It was her sanctuary.

After putting down 4 sub-par teenage fiction novels, a cookery book for aspiring Heston Blumenthal in the everyday man and flicking through the 7th trashy magazine, Serena's mind had had enough. She missed her music more keenly than ever. It had seemed so real. In the back corners of her conscious self, cogs had started to churn as emotion and fantasy fought with rationality. She absentmindedly tuned into as the opposing voices debated in her head.

'Imagine the Museum was alive.' Fantasy chirped whimsically, laying the trap.

'We did, that what caused your whacky dream last night. No more cheese for you before bed!' Rationality bit back.

'Yeah, but what if it wasn't a dream.' Emotion chimed in and arranged his cards.

'That's ludicrous. You expect me to believe that the entire Museum comes to life every night because of a tablet and nobody knows about it except the night guards? Can you even hear what you are thinking?' Rationality scoffed at their weak arguments.

Emotion took up the ball, 'Well, we still have those two bumps on our head. Can you really believe that she whacked her head twice on the headboard without waking up? That would be seriously strange, you know she doesn't have a high pain threshold.' Rationality nodded reluctantly. 'I realise that a tablet bringing the dead to life is a stretch of the imagination but stranger things have happened in this world.'

'Like what exactly?'

'Uh, ok you got me there. I can't think of anything right at this moment but you know what I mean. We at least owe it to Serena to discover whether she was dreaming or not otherwise she might not ever return to the Museum. You know as well as I do just how much she loves that place.'

'Alright, fine,' Rationality conceded with a long-suffering huff, 'guess it can't hurt. It's not like it's going to come alive anyway. You win this round, I'll help you to convince the forebrain.'

'Me too!'

Emotion laughed nervously, 'No, no Fantasy, we won't need your help in this one but thank you for your efforts, you did very well.'

Fantasy beamed and went back to her duties as Emotion and Rationality breathed a shared sigh of relief. The last time they had all worked together to convince something was around the subject of Santa Claus when Serena was 10 years old with a friend. It had ended in tears, a catfight and 'friendship-mending' phone calls that never ended how they should've. They didn't need a repeat of that this time around. As Serena headed home on the bus, the conniving convincers got to work.

**I tried something quite different with this chapter, the emotion/fantasy/rationality debate. Not quite sure if it worked. Please let me know what you think :) **


	9. Ellie Goulding 'Beating Heart'

**A/N: Hey everyone, just wanted to give a quick thanks to the new people who are following/reading/favouriting this story. It makes my heart very glad to see your support and encouragement, particularly in the reviews :) Thank you to all the historic followers and readers, I hope this chapter does not disappoint. Don't forget to review, really helps the writing process. See you next chapter!**

**2 ½ Hours Later at the Museum of Natural History…**

This was an impressively stupid plan. On a scale from one to ten, this was a nine and a half easily. Sitting cross-legged in exactly the same position as the last time she was at the Museum, her mind started to screen write worst-case scenarios. If she got caught, she'd probably face a massive fine and maybe even time in jail. What if she couldn't pay the fine? She didn't know if she could survive in a jail. She had watched the first 15 minutes of Orange Is The New Black and that had been enough for her. Her mind reeled with the possibilities of becoming a traumatised jailbird. People that went to jail never came back the same. Come on Serena, she scolded herself, you need to find out if this is real or not for your own sanity. Once it's dark and the tablet doesn't glow and reanimate the dead, then you just hand yourself in and walk home. She flicked a text to her mother, telling her she was going to be home late and not to wait up. Her mother trusted her not to do anything stupid. Oh, the irony of that belief, she thought as she shifted position. It's not like you're going to steal anything, just remind the guard you're deaf and you forgot the time if he catches you. Nothing to it. That sounds good, they can't be too harsh on a deaf girl, can they? Serena hoped not. Hiding behind the sarcophagus was not as fun as it was last time. Every minute she imagined someone coming up behind her and discovering her outlandish plan. The silence laid heavy on her as she recalled, how in her dream, she had heard such sweet music. Replaying those tracks in her head, she pulled out her book and began to make a more detailed sketch of the tablet. Might as well, she said to herself, it's not like I'll be going anywhere for the next hour. She settled somewhat comfortably on the frigid marble floor and began to draw.

About 35 minutes later, Serena had finished her sketch and boredom had started to seep in. She flicked through the rest of her drawings before settling on Sacagawea with the absent nose. Taking a leaf from her dream/possible previous experience, she tried to sculpt the nose again basing it on memory rather than sight. After 10 minutes she was rather happy, she had managed to draw the insubordinate nose and changed a few of her facial features to make her more kindly looking. Serena always challenged herself to capture the true essence of a person or thing, that's why see always researched a person or an object before she finalised her sketches. She believed that if you were able to capture that quintessence, that character about a person or thing, it was something truly special. She started to look at her other half-finished portraits and began to add little details to them. Laugh lines on President Roosevelt, a glint of danger in Attila, wild mischievousness in a certain monkey and a definite vulnerability highlighted in a blond cowboy. She was enjoying this new task of adding hidden depths to her still life characters. In fact, she became so absorbed in her work she never saw the tablet softly glow, rivulets of pure, molten gold flowing between each of the pieces as the Museum awoke once again.

A hand closed over the top of her sketchbook giving Serena the fright of her life. She looked up into familiar brown eyes, golden-brown skin and a Pharaoh's crown. She pinched herself hurriedly and checked the number of fingers on her hands. Normal; she wasn't asleep. She laughed in amazement to herself, this was real. This was actually real! The Pharaoh crouched patiently, rocking on his heels as he waited for her attention.

"One pretty Pharaoh, at your service Serena."

"What? Wait, say something else." The words were music to her ears.

The Pharaoh thought quickly, "You have a certain ability to shake things up around here. I am glad you have returned. I hope this visit will be better than your last. How are your injuries faring?"

"I can hear again! And this isn't a dream, oh thank you so much magical tablet. I knew you were real. No matter how implausible it sounded, I knew it wasn't a dream. I knew it! Sorry, Pharaoh, just had a couple of difficult days – thought this was all in my head, like some wild dream. Can you believe that? I thought that this wasn't real." Drinking in the sounds, she tried to quench her thirst with everything she could. Thinking quickly, she turned her phone on and flicked on some music. The Pharaoh stared at her, confused. "Don't worry, I synced some new music." She didn't know why she did it at the time but she was glad she had. She was a picture of true bliss as 'Give Me Love' by Ed Sheeran played in the background. As the song ended, she opened one eye out of her reverie and looked sideways to see his quizzical expression. Rednex's 'Cotton-Eye Joe' decided to blare out of her speakers causing them both to jump in surprise.

"Sorry," She turned down the player hurriedly and skipped the track. She was mortified by her player's startling betrayal. "I, um, just… yeah. I haven't been able to hear since our last encounter and I missed… I missed my music and sound and-"

"You don't need to explain yourself. I understand." Those humble words struck a distinct chord with Serena. Of course he knew what it was like to regain something he had lost – he freaking came back from the dead every night for the last 4000 years.

"You'd probably understand better than anyone else, I would reckon. Although," she looked at him carefully, "that kind of comprehension doesn't come without its price. How alive are you during the day?"

He didn't say anything but sat cross-legged beside her and leaned back against his coffin. Soft moonlight stole through a small window making pools of light on the polished floor. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the crooning voice of Josh Garrels. He looked like he was going to say something but decided against it. They sat a few more moments, until the awkwardness grew too much for Serena.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Would you like a tour of the place? I know every nook and cranny of this Museum, it is my second home after all. Can I show you around?" The Pharaoh grinned, however his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Uh, sure – that sounds great."

"Wonderful. Now would you like your tour with or without Huns?"

"Without, if you please." She laughed, knocking him gently with her shoulder, "just be glad my 'fatal disease' is fictional otherwise you'd be dead by now."

"I tremble with fear!" He quavered mockingly before offering his hand to help her up. She guessed chivalry was only half-dead after all. "Who did you want to see first?"

"I really should see President Roosevelt, I'm afraid with all the goings on of the night before, I might have been a bit abrasive."

"Abrasive? By Sobek, he has not been the same, always asking people about the state of his moustache and he has stopped wearing his glasses causing havoc when he goes riding. You certainly did a number on his pride."

"Oh dear… perhaps we'd better go and see him right away. I truly didn't mean all that, it was heat of the moment. You understand don't you Pharaoh?

"Yes, unfortunately I do, but that will not make it any easier. You do realise my first name is Ahkmenrah not Pharaoh?"

"Yeah, I'm terrible at pronouncing foreign names with more consonants than vowels. Do you have a nickname?"

"Well, as enticing 'pretty cross-dressing guard' is-", Serena gasped, opening her mouth to apologise profusely when she saw a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "you can call me Ahk. My family shortened it when we talked. My full name is a bit of a mouthful."

"Ahk, hmm… I like it."

"I am glad you approve. By Ra, I have no idea how I have lived so long without it." He replied sarcastically.

"Cheeky! I thought you ancient ones were all 'respected' and 'wise'. Typical that I would get stuck with the mouthy, satirical one."

Ahk threw back his head and laughed, Serena loved how his whole face reflected his joy. Get a hold of yourself girl, he's a Pharaoh and you're a… whatever. It doesn't matter. Just treat him like a friend or a brother. Annoying younger brother sounds good. Otherwise you'll end up freaking him out.

"Let us be getting to our insecure President shall we? I would imagine Sacagawea would be sorely glad of a reprieve." The Pharaoh took her arm and they headed down the hallway.

"What has she got to do with him?"

"Ah, now that is a story." He cleared his throat dramatically; "It is a tale of love at first sight, the tragic division of glass, a well-placed cannonball and the bisection of Teddy via horse and carriage." Serena stared at him, certain he was making it all up. "It actually all started a few years ago. Sacagawea was enclosed by a glass case and she could not hear nor speak to anyone but that did not stop Teddy. Every night he would come, shyly at first but over time-" Ahk continued, his varied dulcet tones perfect for storytelling, the words rumbling over each other in a pleasant crescendo. Serena listened quietly, revelling in her new-found ability to do so. They strolled towards the American History Exhibits, Ahk pointing out different creatures and giving them brief descriptions as they went past.

"Look, Christopher Columbus. I perfected my Italian with him. Bounasera master. Wonderful conversationalist, terrible hygiene – do not tell him I said that. Ah… I think he heard me. Let us run." They sprinted quickly away and left the irate bronze statue yelling Italian obscenities behind them.

"Ah, there is a treat. Come here girl. Are you not such a good girl? Yes, you are. Alright, Saffron meet Serena. Serena meet Saffron the 135 kilogram horribly bloodthirsty Bengal tiger. Do not worry, she only mauls if she smells fear." Glaring at Ahk, Serena leant down hesitantly to pet the massive beast. She jumped when the big cat nuzzled her hand and rumbling purrs filled the air.

"Watch your head! Ah, bad luck. It does take a bit of practise to avoid the flocks of South American birds. Better luck next time! You might want to… Ah, yes. That is quite difficult to get out. Um, I would suggest soap, water and a lot of elbow grease." Serena was rather disgusted, her outfit had been ruined and a Pharaoh was laughing at her.

"Hey Dexter, how are we doing? Good, good. Oop, now he is on your head. Careful. Oooh, that looked painful. He got a good handful did he not? I am sure it will grow back eventually." This was just wonderful.

"Wait a minute. Rules of the Museum, always give way to the Woolly Mammoth and Rexy. In fact, if it is bigger than you; it has right of way every single time." The trumpeting of the furred elephant made her ears ring.

"Are we nearly there yet, I don't know if I can handle meeting anymore exhibits. They're much more… placid during the day that's for sure." She knew she sounded whiney, but after being sworn at by an Italian, nearly trampled, hugged by a tiger, defecated on by avian and being scalped by a monkey, she was feeling a little worse for wear. She was also developing a monster of a headache from the overstimulation.

"It's not much further. Come just around the corner."  
>And there was the illustrious President, he was standing in the corner of the room wearing a slightly concerned expression. He was talking urgently to the Shoshone tracker, tugging worriedly at his facial hair. She had so much work to do.<p>

"Good evening Ahkmenrah, how goes the night?" The President chuckled heartily, clapping the Pharaoh on the back stoutly.

"The night is well, thank you Teddy. May I introduce Serena to you? I am taking her on a tour of the Museum. Although you may have already met."

Teddy looked down at Serena, his eyes widening suddenly in recognition. Covering his moustache with one of his hands, he coolly tipped his hat with the other.

"Good evening Serena. I trust the night finds you well. If you'll excuse me, I have someplace to be. Come, Texas." His horse trotted faithfully after him, making a hollow clip clopping on the marble.

"Wait, Mr President."

"What is it? Has my moustache offended you again? Or perhaps you've found a new aspect of my being to bully. Is it my outlandishly large ears? Moose-hair eyebrows? My unevenly distributed sideburns? Spit it out girl, I don't have all night. Out with you!" The President's features were reddening as he mounted his horse angrily and roared at her.

Serena took a deep breath, "Mr President, I am terribly sorry for what I said last night. I was not myself. I was angry, confused and frightened. I offer my sincerest apologies, it shall never happen again. Please Mr President, I do hope you didn't take what I said to heart I know what I said to you wasn't true, your moustache is the fanciest I have seen and the glasses you wear are quite slimming."

"They are, aren't they…" He adjusted his spectacles while simultaneously stroking his moustache, "Well, apology accepted and you are forgiven dear one. Come Saca my dear, we shall ride through the night and keep our spirits high till the morn."

"Saca! Wait!"

"Teddy stop. What is it Serena?"

"Thanks for taking care of me the other night. I really appreciate it."

"You are welcome. I am glad you are feeling better. I shall see you around these hallowed halls. Good evening to you both and welcome to the Museum." And with that, the President and his lady trotted slowly out of the hall.

"I must say, you are quite wonderful at making apologies. Lots of practise?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My tongue has gotten me into worse scrapes before. Don't have much of a filter anyway, and then when you add any strong emotion to it – it doesn't usually end well."

"I can imagine." Ahk chuckled lightly, "Where did you want to head next? African Mammals? Astronomy? Underwater Creatures? Hall of Miniatures?"

Seeing the pained expression on Serena's face, Ahk surmised the situation quickly, "Do not tell me you insulted the miniatures? Jedediah and Octavius? My, you really got around last time did you not? If you were not in trouble before, you will certainly be deep in it now."

"I didn't mean to, it just kind of happened."

Shaking his head, he took her arm and they headed towards the Roman and Western dioramas. Ahk could tell it was going to be a long night, mostly full of apologies to the tiny leaders. For beings so small, they could certainly hold a grudge.


	10. Paper Cranes 'Little Darling'

**A/N: Hey! Sorry about that, have no idea how that happened but thank you for patience :) I hope this one comes out alright... enjoy!**

Accessing the Notepad application on her phone, Serena started to make a list of all the things she needed to bring for her next visit, while her ears where filled with the Greatest Hits of The Goo Goo Dolls. Loving the way the beats filled her ears, she picked up the pace. Humming softly, she turned to walk down an alley, a shortcut she had discovered a year ago. The snowfall enveloped her footsteps as soon as they were formed. The moon shone, opalescent in the early morning hour, the stars glittering in the inky sky. Her footsteps, though deep, were muted by the snowfall. With the music infusing her every fibre of her being, there was no possible way she could have heard the desperate man sidling up beside her with a gun.

The cold, rigid nozzle poked abruptly against her ribs. The sudden menacing action turned Serena's reflexes to ice and her throat dry. "Turn 'round slowly, no sudden movements ya hear? I gotta a gun and I know just how ta use it." A gruff, thick voice instructed her. Shuffling quickly in the fallen snow, she spun to face her attacker. A black-bearded, sallow, middle-aged man was glaring at her, his thin frame shivering in the cold. He wiped his sleeve over his running nose, his features sharp as a knife. His flinty green eyes promised no mercy should she scream or run. Mind driven by fear, she nodded, her hands shaking uncontrollably with fear and cold. This kind of thing never happened to her. She heard about it on the news but that happened to other people. Never to her. Serena's throat closed up as she realised the enormity of the situation and she stood trembling in front of him. "That's a good girl ain't ya? Now, gimme ya purse. Chuck it 'ere." She threw her salmon-coloured wallet to the ground next to him. He held her money in one greasy, dirt-encrusted hand. "$20? That's all ya got? Well dearie that just isn't good enough, is it?" The man started to advance on her, malicious intent gleaming in his eyes. Serena backtracked, her feet slipping slightly in the slush. "You sure you ain't got nuthin' else ta offer me?" She was backed up against the slick wall, the man's sweat gleamed on his brow. He leered at her, drinking in her curves. His upper lip curled in an appreciative sneer. "I just need something ta hold me over, til' me next fix. You wouldn't unnerstan' that tho, wouldja pretty bird?" His gun grazed her cheek sending chills to the bottom of her stomach, "Betcha ya never been out on da streets for a single night on ya own." The man reeked of alcohol, vomit and other bodily fluids; Serena was finding it hard to breathe. She couldn't take it anymore. Kneeing the man suddenly in the groin she turned to run, dragging her bag behind her.

"Why ya little minx, yar gonna-", the man's groans followed her fleeing footsteps. She turned her head to see if her attacker was following, her breaths misted and rapid in the snowfall. He had recovered remarkably quickly and had adapted. The rough texture of a jagged brick was the last thing Serena saw before she plummeted into the all-too-familiar void. Intricately carved snowflakes landed gently on her prone form creating a crystalline blanket as the man searched through her bag for money. He found a $10 note at the bottom and ran off, footsteps crunching through the rising snowstorm. Blood, crimson droplets of it fell in a macabre pattern into the grey slush from her head. A gaping slash opened up the top of her forehead to her hairline, covering half of her face in scarlet. Waking some five minutes later, she swayed as she tried to get up, breathing heavily against the wall keeping her upright. She checked herself; he was only after the money. A silent cry of relief vibrated through her bones. It was a stupid move looking back and she knew it. She should've never gone down that alleyway at night. Muddled, her mind struggled to think, to remember what she had been doing. She was going home. Home was too far away. She needed help now. Her thoughts were barely discernible from the intense throbbing in her head.

Holding her head in one hand, Serena jerkily put one foot in front of the other as she headed back up to the Museum. Climbing the grand staircase had almost ruined her, she could only see clearly through one eye now. Her monocular vision caused her to stumble drunkenly around as she searched for the entrance. Smashing her fists against the massive doors sapped the last of her strength from her and she slid brokenly to the ground. Her energy spent. Her eyes half-closing as she watched one of the doors crack open. It was the tiger, Saffron, being expertly ridden by Dexter. "Hey guys, come here. That's it." Her words were starting to slur dangerously, "Go get help, go on please, go on. Get Larry." She pushed the little monkey back inside and hoped against all odds the Capuchin would be able to do something. As the monkey scuttled away, the tiger chuffed against her, butting her towards the door. Saffron tried to drag her inside, her impressive fangs catching on her coat. A sharp cry from Serena was all it took for the giant beast to stop pulling. She whimpered and growled as she padded worriedly around the hurting girl. Serena tried to crawl inside on her own, powered by the desire to be warm than anything else but her limbs wouldn't follow her thoughts. Her mind had experienced enough, closing her eyes against her will and sending her to the healing void. Outside the doors of one of the grandest establishments in America, an angel, her features serene yet blood-soaked, was freezing to death as the elements swirled around her. A magnificent tiger, a dim flame in the ever white, curled up around the girl, resting her impressively designed head on her lap, waiting for help to come.

**A/N: Should I go crawl under a rock for a while? Let me know in the comments!**


	11. Skye 'Monsters Demons'

**A/N: Hello :) Lovely to see you all again, joining me on this journey. Hope you all had a lovely Valentines! I was certainly inspired over the weekend! Thank you to all who have reviewed/commented/favourited/followed. It's super encouraging and totally makes my day! **

Dexter was characteristically known to overreact. As the capuchin awkwardly ran on two feet through the halls, his cries were ignored and dismissed. He looked pleadingly at some of the exhibits but they were so used to his mischievous ways they simply walked away, not wanting to be fooled by the tiny primate. Finally, he saw Larry in the distance. He was sure to listen to him. Climbing up on his shoulder, the monkey slapped his cheek. "Hey Dexter. Who's a good boy? Yes, you are." Larry took his hand and gently helped the monkey to the floor. Dexter knew the human outside was depending on him. He grabbed the night guard's arm and tried to pull him in the right direction, chittering anxiously as he did so. Larry, finally noticing the frenzied activity of the monkey, asked, "What's wrong little guy? You're not just looking for attention, are you?" The monkey motioned for Larry to follow him. As the monkey scampered ahead of him, screeching shrilly towards the front doors, a spike of fear twisted in his heart unexpectedly.

Ahkmenrah was happily contemplating the events of the evening while simultaneously supervising Nicky's attempts to train Rexy when he heard his name being yelled. A monkey's screech accompanied the outburst. He called to Attila to take over. So accustomed was he to the outburst, he slowly began to make his way towards the sound rolling his eyes as he imagined what new catastrophe had been unleashed. Only, the monkey's screams were getting higher in pitch and more frequent than usual. Furrowing his brow at the unusual, desperate calls Ahk increased his pace. Something was very wrong.

Some instinct in Ahk went off and he starting running towards Larry's calls, praying that Neanderthals had just caught fire and it was nothing terribly serious. Sliding around corners, his fear grew exponentially when he realised he was running to the front entrance. Larry and Dexter only moments ahead of him. It had only been a short while that he had seen Serena through those doors. One of them was slightly open; Larry swung it wide he looked frantically before hearing a groan near his feet. There she leaned against the other door, like she had just fallen asleep, her countenance was so peaceful. Spirals of her hair held delicate snowflakes like Christmas decorations. The tiger keeping her warm whined plaintively. Ahk shook her gently, trying to wake her as her head hung forward exposing the right side of her face. Larry pulled away a chunk of her hair to fully see the damage. All he saw was red and black. Slick rivulets of gore covered most of her features. Congealed blood and dirt encrusted her entire right eye up to her hairline. Her cream jacket was covered in smeared crimson. The movement caused fresh blood to flow gelatinously from the wound. It was probably the cold that saved her life; she hadn't bled as much as she could've. The right side of her face was mottled with patches of dark purple, blue and green. She was mercifully unconscious, Larry was glad for that. He still had no idea what he was going to do. Ahk was horrified, what had happened to her? Barely half an hour had passed since he had seen her. Her lips were tinged with blue, her cheeks ashen and raw. He actually felt physically sick, bile rising to his throat. How on earth could this have happened? His gaze hardened, brown eyes narrowing. Who had done this was the more accurate question. He felt her pulse; it was slow and lethargic from the cold. They needed to get her inside quickly. Saffron nuzzled Serena, tucking her head under one frozen arm and purring harshly. One chocolate unfocused eye fluttered open and a pained moan escaped her chapped lips. It was like she could feel a deep fire burning a scar through her skull. She directed her attention to the cat churring on her lap, refusing to acknowledge the pain.

"Good girl Saffy, good girl. Thank you Dexter." Serena looked up to see two pairs of eyes staring very worriedly at her. She must have fallen asleep. Oh, this was not good. "Hey Ahk, Larry." She hissed painfully, wincing as she tried to get up, "We really do need to stop meeting like this." It felt like red-hot knives were stabbing at her throbbing brain. On a scale of 1 to 10, this was easily an 8. Her 10 had been used long ago. Ahk and Larry were hazy figures blurring in and out of her focal point. She needed to get inside before her will left her altogether. She exhaled quickly, "Can you help me get up?" They nodded solemnly, each taking one side to support her. The trio shuffled awkwardly inside, Serena's limbs stiff and awkward with cold. "Thanks, I didn't know where else to go."

"You're always welcome here Serena." Larry smiled at her genuinely while Ahk kept looking at her sidelong as if she was going to shatter spontaneously. Serena tried to make light of the matter.

"It's not that bad really. Looks worse than it is, it just hurts like hell." A shooting pain seared through her mind, almost causing her to stumble. Ahk caught her mid-fall and helped her stand straight. "Thanks guys. Some crazed green-eyed hairy addict caught me unawares. Should've known better than to-", her will was strong but the effort had been just too much for her battered mind. Clearly, her body had been through enough that night. Crumpling, she felt herself being gently let down to the floor as she slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

Calling for the Huns, Sacagawea and Teddy, Larry's yells rang throughout the Museum. The traumatised Pharaoh, cradling the bloodied head of their latest visitor in his lap, was trembling unconsciously. He had been speechless through the whole endeavour. Larry laid a reassuring hand on Ahk's shoulder as he leant down to examine the severity of her wound. It was hard to see under all the dried, blackened blood but from what he could tell, the cut was deep and long. Whatever had done this had certainly put some force into it. He looked up into the anxious Pharaoh's eyes, suddenly looking much younger and far more vulnerable than he had seen him in years.

"She should be fine, she might not even need stitches. Hey, look at me. Look at me. She's going to be fine. It's like she said, it looks worse than it is." He clapped him on the back before rushing to talk to the approaching exhibits.

The Pharaoh watched Larry go, struggling to believe his words as he glanced down at the still, helpless form on his lap. He smoothed his hand over her curls in a steady rhythm, carefully avoiding her injured skull. He remembered his mother doing the same to comfort him all those years ago. The Huns arrived, carrying a makeshift stretcher between them. Ahk supported her head in his hands as they lifted her onto it, tenderly letting it drop into the worn canvas. Barely contained red-hot anger raged deep inside him forming a deep molten core. How dare someone do this to her? How could anyone cause this kind of suffering to his innocent, harmless friend? By Ra and all the heavenly bodies, he swore he would avenge Serena. Vengeance would be his. Nothing would stop him. Noting the time, he slipped quietly out the doors and into the wintry night.

**A/N: Where's Ahk going? What's going to happen? Thoughts/suggestions/reactions? Please review :) Would love to hear from you and it keeps me going!**


	12. Melissa Etheridge 'It Will Be Me'

**A/N: Hello! Sorry for the longish wait - life happened. Thank you for the reviews, please keep them coming. They are super encouraging :) Thank you to all for reading/favouriting/following my story, it means the world to me!**

**DancingKitKat: I did pull ideas from those two stories so well done for picking up on that! I read TFIOS last year and I dunno, some parts of it definitely stuck with me. Someday I hope to write half as well as John Green #BookHero. **

**25 Minutes Later…**

"Owch Saca, take it easy will you? I'm not a pin cushion." Sitting up on the timeworn couch, Serena had decided she had enough déjà-vu to last a lifetime. She edged closer to the heater and pulled the sheepskin closer to her, keen to expel the chill from her bones.

"Hush, you are disturbing my concentration. A pincushion would not complain as much. There. I am finished." Saca's lilting accent filled the empty room as she pulled her final stitch.

"How many times have you done this before?" Serena winced as Saca bit through the thread.

"In my tribe, I was taught the basics of healing. At the Museum, I have darned many costumes and exhibits. A couple of nights and I will remove the stitches."

"How on earth am I going to explain this to my mum? She already thinks I'm delicate because of the deafness. She is going to throw a right wobbly when I come home looking like Frankenstein's monster."

"Who?" The Shoshone woman cocked her head in confusion.  
>"It doesn't matter." Serena sighed, her head hurt too much. "That tablet doesn't happen to have any magical accelerated healing powers does it?"<p>

"The tablet is mystical in all aspects, especially regarding humans. I am unsure. Perhaps we should ask the owner?"

Standing up, she leaned on Saca for support as they steadily made their way to outside the door to where Teddy and Larry were waiting. "That's a good idea, where is he anyway?"

"I don't know. He's disappeared; maybe he went back to his tomb? I'll go and check." Larry started to move off.

"No, I'll go. If that tablet does have healing capacities, it would probably be best that I am near it anyway. Thank you for your offer." Straightening, she took several steps without support. "See? It was barely a scratch, right Saca?" Saca shook her head patiently and took her arm again before she stumbled.

"Let us go together." Serena smiled guiltily at the other woman. "Teddy, lead the way. Larry, perhaps you should see to Nicky."

"Right, well, if you need anything just yell."

"We certainly will, lad. Now please move out of the way woollen pachyderm, we have urgent matters to get to. Jambo to you too, my African friends. Move along now chaps." Teddy skilfully wove his little band expertly through the milling creatures to the centre of Ahkmenrah's tomb. The young King in question was swinging his legs over his pedestal, focused intently on the floor.

"Thanks Saca, Teddy. I'll be fine from here on in." The couple left, Teddy draping his arm around Saca's shoulder. "Hey Ahk, how's it going?" The Pharaoh didn't answer her, his head sinking deeper into his shoulders. "Ahk?" He looked up at her and Serena was shocked. A purplish-black bruise blossomed around his eye and a cut on his cheek was encrusted in dried, blackened blood. Taking his beaten face, she looked directly at him, "What happened?" When no answer was forthcoming, she moved her hands to his shoulders and shook him. She was nearly frantic with worry, she could feel her voice shaking. "What the hell happened to you Ahkmenrah?" Silence filled his chamber. Without warning, Ahk grasped her hand tightly, gripping it so tightly his knuckles started to whiten. What was going on? "Ahk, let go of me. Ahk that's starting to really hurt. Ahk." She could feel the bruises forming under his grip. He let go suddenly, and withdrew from her, gathering his robes to himself. Perching herself next to the grand ruler, she hesitated. She started to open her mouth then shut it. Unsure of his reaction, they sat in silence. "Come on Ahk, I just want to help." The Pharaoh did not answer but chose to turn himself further away from her. Taking matters into her own hands, Serena slid her hands around his waist and held him tightly, bracing herself around his suffering. She rested her head somewhat comfortably on his chest. Stiffening at first, he slowly relaxed, setting his head gently on hers He wrapped himself around her, breathing deeply as she rubbed his back comfortingly. Her mum had taught her that. She pulled him gently away, "Please tell me." He looked at her, his eyes brimming with sorrow, shame and regret.

"Serena, I am so ashamed." His voice came out as a husky rasp, "I could not let you leave unavenged. It would not be right. It was not how I was raised. I swore by Sekhmet's great lion, I would bring justice. I went out and found the man you spoke of, I approached him and asked him if he had seen you. He freely admitted to everything. To harming you, he said he threw a brick – what kind of despicable creature does that? You were completely harmless." Serena thought about interrupting him to tell him the more accurate version of the story but he was just getting started. "He said he left you in the alley if I was looking for you. He spouted all kinds of lewd things until I could not take it anymore. Blinded by my anger, I swung at him. He was shocked at first but then he grew angry. It was like a demon had possessed the man, his eyes so red and face so hollow. I have never seen anything like it. He hit me back." He pointed at his eye and chuckled humourlessly. "I guess I am a little out of practise." The cut had reopened itself and was starting to ooze. Serena generally wasn't wonderful around bodily fluids of any kind but she fished a crinkled tissue out of her pocket and pressed it against the wound. She tried to ignore his flinch at her touch.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" For the first time, Serena noticed an obsidian khopesh in an adjacent display. Its keen edge gleamed in the dim light. She had no doubt that Ahk knew his way around one of those.

"No, I did not get the chance." He exhaled heavily and took the tissue from her, pressing it to his own face, "The cowardly snake ran away before I could inflict full retribution."

"I am glad you didn't. I bet he looks worse than you do." She nudged him jokingly. He didn't nudge her back.

"Perhaps. I just could not let him get away with what he had done to you. I remember that when I was growing up, I would have wanted someone to avenge me. The times Kah would 'accidently' push me accidently into hippo-infested rivers and abandoned wells. He would abandon me in the middle of the desert with no water. He said that he was just teaching me to be strong and how to be a man. For a while I actually believed him. He was my closest brother after all. But when the 'trials' became more deadly, I realised the cruelty in his motives. I could not fight back, he was always so much stronger and quicker than I was." The Pharaoh wiped a bit of moisture from his eye, Serena's heart wept with his tortured soul. "I could bring justice this time. I could do something instead of just letting it happen, instead of being a victim. Your manner reminded me so much of myself, always trying to see the best in people when there was none, making light of grievous wounds – it just was not right. I had to do something. I am sorry if I have made you ashamed of me. I will understand if you do not want to spend any more time with me. I have shamed you." He hung his head resolutely awaiting her verdict. Serena framed his face in her hands and titled his features upwards.

"Ahk, I am not ashamed of you. Far from it." Something like hope glimmered in his remaining good eye. "I think you are incredibly brave to risk your neck for me, I don't know anyone outside my family that would do something like that for me. I understand why you did it. In a similar situation, I'd probably behave very similarly." She smiled and tenderly thumbed his cheek. "You know, I think you are one of the most honourable, chivalrous, and courageous people I know. Also one of the most stupid but I'll get to that later."

"What?" Ahk choked in surprise.

"What were you thinking? You could've got yourself killed! Or been left out there when the sun comes up and turned to dust. You acted on pure impulse didn't you? No back up, just 'I must avenge the poor distressed damsel' like a bloody knight in shining armour. Well, let me tell you one thing, those knights had armour at least. Made of steel. What were you wearing? This flimsy toga?" She lifted an edge of his cloak and examined it scornfully. "Let me tell you, this is not made for New York Winters. Hell, it's not even designed for rain. You would have been freezing within minutes and what if he had a knife? You didn't think this one quite through did you? Idiot."

"I… I was fighting for your honour. I did not feel the cold." The Pharaoh huffed imperiously; trying to retain whatever dignity he had left. Serena softened, sensing her message had got through.

"Next time let's leave it to the authorities okay? They have the proper equipment to deal with scum like that. Promise me?"

"Fine. I promise."

"Come on, we'll get you stitched up. I do hope Saca has enough thread left." The Pharaoh turned a sickly shade of green. "You're going to love that. And for your information, I wasn't completely helpless. The reason he threw the brick at me was because I kneed him where no man should be kneed, if you get my meaning. He was not happy." Serena pulled Ahk off his pedestal, noting the slight hiss that escaped his lips when he rose. The idiot must be in far more pain than he was letting on.

"Oh, so he was actually telling the truth. I thought he was grasping at straws, trying to justify his actions. But you did actually hurt him? You are quite the dark horse Serena. Any other savage secrets I should be aware of before we leave?"

"Nope, you'll just have to discover them as they come. No freebies for you!" She took most of his weight, noticing in surprise just how light the young man was.

"Then I look forward to them." Ahk smiled sincerely at her and she was glad for the light had returned in his eyes. Well, eye. You couldn't see much through the other one.

"Man, you don't weigh much do you? Is that just an added benefit of being dead? If so, then sign me up!"

"I am unsure. Perhaps having all of one's organs removed and bottled on display for eternity would help?"

Serena was gobsmacked for a moment then burst out laughing. She sometimes forgot this king of old has this sharp, dark wit to him. Ahk joined her in the hilarity and they were soon in stitches. They leant heavily on each for support, talking incessantly about the merits and consequences of heroism and mummification as they went to go and find the healer woman. Her services were being well utilised tonight.

**A/N: Thoughts? Suggestions? Criticisms? I would love to hear from you!**


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